


First Day Jitters

by TigStripe



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry's New at This, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Marriage, One Shot, Stepdad Barry, newlyweds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 15:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17388602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigStripe/pseuds/TigStripe
Summary: Barry and Oliver got married two days ago.How does this "parenting" thing work?!





	First Day Jitters

Barry wasn’t nervous. Nah, not Barry Allen. The fact his hands were shoved so deep into his pockets his watch was caught on the lining wasn’t evidence of that at all. Him rocking back and forth on his heels wasn’t an indication, either. And when he scratched the back of his neck when he saw people staring at him? Just a reflex, not nerves.

No way.

“Sir, can I help you?”

A relief officer stepped up to Barry with a look of curiosity on his face. Barry’s eyes widened. He must really look suspicious, for the campus officer to ask about him. “No, I’m, uh, I’m waiting on my son.”

The officer raised an eyebrow in a mixture of suspicion and confusion. “This is the car lineup, sir. If you want to check your son out, you’ll have to go into the office.”

Barry felt the heat rising in his cheeks. He knew that. Oliver had told him that. Why didn’t he remember that? “R-Right. I’ll just go do that.” Hands still in his pockets, Barry made his way to the front of the school.

The front office was bustling with middle schoolers and parents coming in and out. It was just that time of the day. Barry stepped up to the receptionist’s desk, trying to formulate a sentence in his head before he fumbled. “Hi, I’m Barry Allen-Queen. I’m here to check out William Clayton, and I don’t really know how.”

The receptionist raised a deadpan eyebrow and pointed to a clipboard with a list of signatures. “Are you checking him out of class, or just taking him home when the bell rings?” she asked.

Oh. That’s right. Hand on his neck again. Stop that, Barry! “Uh, just taking him home, I guess. But I’m walking him home, is there a place for that?”

“Outside the east entrance, across the bus exit lane. You should see some other folks waiting already,” she replied. She looked him up and down. “You said you were Barry Allen-Queen? You married Oliver Queen?”

The room closed in as Barry shifted his weight nervously. He averted his eyes for a moment, clearing his throat. “Yes, I did. On Saturday, actually.”

“Huh. Never saw that one coming,” she muttered. “A guy with _his_ history, marrying another guy?”

“Something wrong with that?” Barry asked, his chest puffing out a little.

“Not a thing. I’m engaged to a woman. But the Queen boy was a famous skirt chaser. I just didn’t expect it.”

Rude. “Sounds like you don’t really know him,” Barry muttered. “Thanks for the help.” He headed out the front and around to the east side of the building, where a few other parents were waiting on the far side of the bus lane. Barry joined them, but his hands stayed in his pockets as a sign that he still felt he didn’t belong.

Barry perked up at the sound of the final bell of the day ringing clear across campus. It took only a few seconds for children to begin spewing forth from every exit the building had. Barry searched the sea of faces for William to no avail. His heart picked up the pace and his foot started tapping independently as he waited. What if William forgot Barry was picking him up today? He would be on the bus, right? But he’d verified it with Oliver that morning - how could have have forgotten? Did he get after school detention? Where was he?

Then his heart  _really_ started to pound. What if something had happened to him? What if he got shoved in a locker somewhere? Locked in the gym? Swirlies. The nurse’s office!

“You okay, son?”

Barry nearly jumped out of his skin at a portly older gentleman waiting beside him. He was looking up at Barry with concern. “Uh, sorry. No, I’m okay.”

“You just looked awful nervous,” the man replied. “Are you picking someone up for the first time today?”

“That obvious, huh?” Barry relaxed a little, a hesitant smile curling his mouth.

“They let the walkers go _after_ the bus riders,” the man informed him. “They wait until the busses are gone to minimize accidents with crossing the bus lane.”

That made sense. Barry’s heart rate slowed. “I...didn’t know that. Thanks.”

Sedated by this new information, Barry waited with the other parents as the kids loaded up on the busses. After a couple of minutes, the busses rolled out one by one, until, at almost three thirty, a small smattering of students emerged from the east side of the building. Barry’s heart lightened in his chest and his breathing steadied as he saw William among them.

He was tempted to wave, but Barry noted none of the other parents were signaling their children, so he just kept his hands shoved into his pockets, trying not to stare too hard as William approached.

“Hey, Barry.” William didn’t smile, but he didn’t look upset, either. Being picked up by his stepfather was... _different._

Barry, on the other hand, was all teeth. His cheeks were straining. “Hey, Will. Have a good day?”

William gave an indifferent shrug. “I guess.” He looked around at the other parents and their children, absorbed in their own little worlds. “I guess no one realized we live like ten miles away, huh?”

Barry snickered. No, no one had picked up on that. William, who rode a bus, was suddenly being _walked_ home. “Let’s go get a drink before we head home, what do you say?”

“Sure.”

Barry put his hand on William’s back as they turned southward, toward a nearby café. With his free hand, he gestured to the portly man, who waved back next to his daughter, who also waved, for whatever reason. Kids are strange.

 

The two of them arrived home half an hour later, thanks to a little help from the Speed Force, and Barry set about preparing for dinner. William plopped down at the kitchen island and whipped out his homework. They each worked in relative silence, having talked mostly about their days already at the café. Ten minutes later, William sighed, drawing Barry’s attention.

“What’s up, Will?”

“I don’t want to do homework right now. Can I help you cook?”

Barry’s face lit up. “Sure! Grab an apron and wash your hands. I’ve got some potatoes that need peeling.”

Three potatoes in, the front door opened to reveal Oliver in street clothes, looking kerfuffled. He tossed his jacket onto the back of the couch before approaching the kitchen. He kissed Barry on the cheek and patted William on the shoulder, never even cracking a hint of a smile, before moving toward the bedroom.

“Ollie?”

Oliver halted mid-stride and turned to Barry. “Sorry. I need to decompress. Give me a minute?”

Barry let his hands droop in the sink as he nodded, his chest heavy. “Sure. Take your time.”

Not even two minutes after Oliver had left the room, there was a knock at the front door. Intrigued, Barry wiped his hands dry and called, “I got it.” He sock-slid across the kitchen floor and over to the front door, opening it with gusto.

Mrs. Maneli, an elderly neighbor from down the hall, stood with a card in her hand and a smile on her face. Barry had always liked Mrs. Maneli, although she was a little gossipy for his tastes. Strangely enough, she’d never quite put two and two together about Barry and Oliver. To her, Barry was just an extra caretaker for William.

“Oh, Barry! It’s nice to see you again,” Mrs. Maneli said. She peeked into the apartment and looked around. “Oh, hello, William.” Standing up straight again, she made a disappointed face. “I was hoping to catch Oliver. We’re having a building celebration tomorrow night on the roof and I wanted to come over and personally invite him and William.” She handed him the card in her hand and patted his hand for good measure. He smiled back.

“What about Barry? Can he come?” William asked from near the sink.

Mrs. Maneli cocked her head. “Oh, do you live in this building too, dear? I thought I knew all the residents.”

His wedding band was suddenly very heavy in his pocket, but Barry held his tongue. William, however, didn’t. “Barry is my stepdad.”

Mrs. Maneli’s head cocked further, her smile gone. “Oh? How did I miss _that?”_

Barry looked at his socked feet for a moment while he gave a hollow laugh, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. When he looked back up, Mrs. Maneli was grinning like nothing had happened.

“Oh, well, dear, _of course_ you’re welcome! Feel free to cook up anything you’d like for the treat table. I know you’re quite the chef.”

Barry’s smile became strained at that point.

“I am sorry I didn’t get the memo about your marriage, dear. Congratulations.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “So, which one of you is the woman in the-”

“Okay, Mrs. Maneli, it’s time for you to go,” Barry interjected with a terse chuckle. He led her out of the doorway by her elbow. “Thank you for the invitation, I’m sure we’ll all be there, unless Oliver has _obligations_ to attend to.”

“Of course, dear. Thank him for us all, will you?”

And the door was closed.

“Smooth,” William laughed.

Barry returned to the sink next to his stepson - it was still so strange to look at William and know that’s what he was now - and began instructing him on potato preparations. A minute later, a deep chuckle from the far end of the room gathered their attention.

Oliver leaned against the doorframe leading into the kitchen with his arms crossed, his eyes locked on the scene before him. He sported a warm smile that reached his eyes, and he looked very relaxed.

“You feeling better?” Barry asked.

Oliver fidgeted a little, but a fidget of comfort. His smile persisted. “Watching you two together? Definitely.” He walked over to Barry and give a much more sincere kiss to the chef. “Sorry I was so gruff a minute ago. Bad day with the DA.”

William chuckled at the rhyme.

“Truth be told, I was a _lot_ more upset,” Oliver admitted as he stepped back to allow Barry to continue working on the food, “but I just kept thinking of the fact that I was coming home to _my husband and his stepson._ Something about that grounded me. If I have you two waiting for me, nothing else can touch me.”

“How long until the newlywed period is over, because that was super cheesy,” William laughed.

Barry raised his chin in William’s direction. “I happen to like cheese.” William rolled his eyes.

“Well, since you had a rough day, go relax a bit,” Barry ordered. “Will and I have this.”

“If you need a third set of hands, let me know,” Oliver offered, leaning in for another quick kiss before heading into the living room.

Barry watched Oliver walk away with an almost dreamy grin plastered across his face. He shook himself out of his reverie and turned back to William. “Okay. Let’s get this dinner done.”

 

Barry’s cooking always tasted better with a helper, and he was sure he’d have one most days now. After a filling feast and cleaning up, the trio relaxed in the living room. Oliver had a glass of wine on the end table next to him as he watched a football game turned down low with mild interest. Barry lay lengthwise down the couch, his head resting on Oliver’s lap while Oliver’s left hand rested on his chest, a book in Barry’s hands. The recliner nearby was filled with William haphazardly splayed out in every direction as he played a game on his Switch.

“Don’t play that too long. You didn’t finish your homework earlier,” Barry reminded William, neither of them looking at one another.

“I know. I’m doing one last thing before I get back to it.”

They lapsed into relative silence once more. Barry felt Oliver’s fingers flex on his shirt, and he looked up at him. Oliver was looking down at him with the same warm smile he’d worn earlier. His hand flexed again. Barry reached down with his own left hand and stilled Oliver’s fidgeting with his touch. They sat like that for a while, hand in hand, ring on ring, as the evening continued in peace. They both knew it wouldn’t last - one of them was bound to get a call from one of their teams about a prospective issue to be dealt with, but that was for the future versions of the Allen-Queens, not the ones relishing in this quiet, warm moment.

Barry set the book down on his stomach and closed his eyes. He could feel Oliver’s hand more clearly, and with it, a sense of comfort he’d never known before. He didn’t know he was smiling, but Oliver’s free hand running through his hair only made his smile larger. There was a slight shift from overhead, and the soft press of Oliver’s lips on Barry’s forehead. It was gentle. Caring. Something no one associated with the Green Arrow. But that was okay. This wasn’t the Green Arrow.

This was Barry’s husband.


End file.
